Per Aspera ad Astra
by nelliesbones
Summary: They were Mulder and Scully, and people used to say their names in one breath. It had been a while, though... From "My Struggle I" to "Babylon".
1. Her Struggle

_Remember me? It's been a while. Well, a long while. And (sorry, folks) this is not "Bones", this is about Mulder and Scully. Seeing the first show I've ever loved back on TV was special, writing about the one couple that sucked me into fanfiction back then in the 90s an honor. Thank you Michala (sourissouris) for beta and encouragement!_

PER ASPERA AD ASTRA

The X-Files

1\. Her Struggle

 _Time passes in moments, moments which, rushing past, define the path of a life just as surely as they lead towards its end._

One day, Dana Scully woke up knowing that she had to leave. It was an almost Kafkaesque experience, even though she had not turned into a giant bug. And neither had the man sleeping next to her, at least not literally.

The alarm clock on her nightstand said 4 am, even too early for the morning shift at the hospital, and from the outside, she could hear rain knocking at their window.

Why had she woken up? Instincts as old as her Quantico training kicked in, listening for intruders or anything else that might be wrong. Aside from the rain, the house was quiet, but the satin of her nightgown felt slightly damp around her midsection.

Had it been that dream again?

Dreams had been haunting her for the better part of her adult life, even though they had changed over the decades. White light, mind-searing pain. Her sister's blood. A baby's cries. Sometimes Scully was afraid that, in addition to everything else, she had lost a piece of sanity along the way. Or maybe it was just living with Mulder that made it feel as if the madness was never coming to an end.

 _How rarely do we stop to examine that path, to see the reasons why all things happen; to consider whether the path we take in life is our own making or simply one into which we drift with eyes closed._

Mulder.

Turning around, Scully looked at the man stretched out beside her. Silvery moonlight illuminated his features, and in his sleep he looked young and at peace. He had been brilliant once, a promising FBI rookie with a bright future. Then he had discovered the X-files, and the rest was history. At the age of 50, he was still brilliant, Scully knew that, but he was also...

Yeah, what was he?

A nut job, if you believed some. Gullible, that's what others said. Stubborn and single-minded, that's what she knew for certain. Mulder saw patterns where nobody else could, or maybe he only wanted to see them. Of late, she had found him believing in one too many UFO stories that had turned out to be a hoax.

And it was burning him from the inside out, had turned the man she had fallen in love with into a shell of his former self. Consumed by his quest, Mulder had failed to notice that it was burning her as well.

 _But what if we could stop, pause to take stock of each precious moment before it passes?_

Scully couldn't undo the past, couldn't unsee the monsters, couldn't unmake the sacrifices. But she wanted to put it behind her, wanted to forget. Needed to. She was not young anymore, but she was still young enough to move past the pain... even if she had to do it alone.

 _Might we then see the endless forks in the road that have shaped a life?_

He shifted in sleep, moving closer.

"Scully?"

His voice was raspy, tugging at her heart strings, and she buried her head in the crook of his neck. Somewhere between wake and dreams, his arms found her, encircling her, pulling her even closer. Mulder's scent, Mulder's warmth, Mulder's strength. Mulder, Mulder, Mulder. He was everywhere, woven into her life, a fiber that couldn't be untangled from herself anymore. Could it?

She loved him, oh yes she did. Scully couldn't imagine a world where she didn't love Mulder anymore.

"Shh, I'm here."

Her voice was a caress in the night, lulling him back to sleep.

Love wasn't enough, not anymore. Tears pricked behind her eyelids as she imagined packing her suitcase. Biding farewell, leaving their home, taking off her ring, moving on. How could she live without him? Scully didn't know. She only knew that she could not live _with_ him anymore. Not like this.

 _And, seeing those choices, choose another path?_

In the wee hours of the morning, nobody but the rain saw her crying.

To be continued...


	2. His Struggle

2\. His Struggle

She had left on a rainy October day. By December, Mulder couldn't put off changing the sheets anymore. The washing machine eliminated her scent once and for all. In January, he realized that there was no need to keep cereals in the kitchen. At the end of spring, the usual mess on his desk had spread out in the whole house.

The thought of losing Scully had always scared the shit out of him. Little gray men, cancer, powerful shadows in the government, monsters, mutants, psychos, car accidents... The list was long, and there used to be a time when he would lie awake at night, just looking at her sleeping face, paralyzed by fear that she might be taken away from him as well.

She stuck around, though, became his constant. Throughout the years, Dana Scully had followed Fox Mulder through hell and back.

He'd never thought she would leave him like this, simply walk out on him.

Until she did.

X

Seasons followed seasons, but he barely realized it. Every once in a while, he found a reason to call her. A few times, they met for coffee.

She had changed. He couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but there was something in her eyes, something about her face. She was smiling again. When had she stopped smiling in the first place? And why had he failed to notice?

Mulder had made some attempts to get her back, but one morning he looked in the toothpaste-spotted bathroom mirror and could barely recognize himself behind bloodshot eyes and grayish skin. That was when he stopped. She looked carefree, if not happy. Maybe she was better off without him.

She wrote Christmas cards. He called on her birthdays. One time, she knocked on his door in the middle of the night and cried in his arms. She never told him what it was that had shaken her, and in the morning, she was gone again.

His love for her had changed into some kind of ambient noise which rang silently in the back of his heart. He couldn't stop caring about her, but he stopped thinking about her on a daily basis. Blissful oblivion made him forget all the small important details lovers share – the scent of her skin, the feeling of her body beneath his, the color of her eyes in the early morning.

And before he knew it, five years had passed since she had walked out on their life.

That's when she called.

X

"My life's become a punch line. What's happening out there, Scully?"

He didn't say hello, immediately sucking her into a whirlwind of Mulder thoughts. As if talking to each other was still a daily thing. As if they hadn't not seen each other in months. Almost against her own will, her lips curved up in a smile.

Mulder.

She delivered her message, and even through the safe distance of a phone call, she could see his furrowed brow as if he was standing right in front of her.

"I thought you were done with UFOs. The stranglehold they put on your very existence is, I believe, how you put it."

Beyond the challenge in his voice she could sense barely masked hurt. Scully knew that she had cut him deeply five years ago, she could still feel the twin of his pain in her very own chest. Among the sacrifices she had had to make in her life, leaving Mulder had been one of the biggest.

"Tell Skinner to set it up."

"Seriously?"

"And don't pretend I'm going alone."

X

They met downtown.

While she was waiting for him, Scully asked herself for the hundredth time why she had agreed to do this. The pantyhose clung uncomfortably to her thighs and it was as if she had outgrown the garment, outgrown that life. These days, she wore scrubs and jeans and cotton pants. The pantyhose reminded her of Agent Scully, reminded her of countless frustrating cases and chases.

The sound of a braking car alerted her and, turning around, she caught her first glimpse of Mulder in over a year. Of course, _he_ hadn't bothered to dress up. She took him all in in the fraction of a second. Jeans, gray shirt, green jacket. Clean, but well-worn. Sunglasses. His hair was a little longer than it used to be, and the shadow of a beard suited him far more than the beard itself once had. He looked good and healthy and only slightly crumpled. She exhaled relief.

Ever since she had left him, Scully had carried the burden of her bad conscience. Would he take care of himself if she wasn't around? She knew that it wasn't her job to look after him, had never truly been, but old habits die hard.

"Uber?"

"Hitchhike."

Her face wrinkled up, and Mulder felt a twinge of joy that she still cared.

"Relax, Scully, I'm kidding."

"I just worry about you, Mulder," she admitted softly.

"Nothing to worry about, I'm taking good care of myself."

And she believed him. He might not win the Healthy Lifestyle Award anytime soon, but she had certainly seen him in worse shape before. As always, Mulder was standing a tad too close, forcing her to tilt her chin and look up. He even smelled good, she noticed, and something old and familiar moved deep inside of her.

"It's good for you to get out of that little house every once in a while."

It was meant as a tease, and if there was wistfulness in his response, it was masked by the sunglasses.

"It certainly was good for you."

The truth; he knew it, she knew it.

"I'm always happy to see you."

"And I'm always happy to find a reason."

More truth. Another kind of truth.

 _The_ _truth_ _is_ _out_ _there_ , he used to say while dragging her deeper and deeper into the maze of lies and conspiracies until they had lost everything but each other. And then they'd lost even that. His search for the truth had tainted the expression itself, turned it into some kind of emotive word that had triggered argument after argument, fight after fight in the little house.

And while Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were caught in their banter, caught in the moment, every bystander could witness something primeval and beautiful, a truth as age-old as the first man who had ever lain eyes on a woman; a truth as dazzling as the first smile that had ever been shared.

For there are things that can't be denied and bonds which can't be untied, no matter how hard you try.

The arrival of a car broke the spell, and, blinking, he stepped back, disappointment rising in his chest. In this very moment, Fox Mulder couldn't understand why he had ever chosen a conspiracy over her.

Tad O'Malley greeted them, and Mulder wondered if this was a new beginning or simply their life coming full circle. Whatever it was, though, it allowed him to spend time with her.

For now, that was enough.

To be continued...

 _Will be updated and finished in the next few days._


	3. About Men and Monsters

3\. About Men and Monsters

He saw an UFO. Again.

She didn't see it. Again.

They found children that shouldn't exist. Inevitably, they thought of William, the boy that shouldn't have existed as well, that had been born though, touching their lives for a brief moment in time and changing them forever.

He mourned the life that could had been.

She mourned the life that should have been.

Losing their child had turned Mulder and Scully into two lonely islands surrounded by an ocean of grief. It could have been a shared burden for it was the same kind of pain tormenting them, but even after all those years neither of them was strong enough to reach out to the other.

They moved back into the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Once again, the room was too tiny for a second desk. Once again, it bothered her, but she stayed mum. After all, were they back for good or was it just a brief spell?

The former lovers, former partners found themselves in a time capsule, and only computer, smart phones and clothes indicated that the 1990s were truly gone.

It was Scully who hung up a replica of the old poster, feeling partly nostalgic and partly cheeky.

It was Mulder who dug out the original x-files. The boxes were dusty, the paper yellowish, the photographs faded. He spent a week revisiting the old files, cases he had once known by heart, and with every folder on the floor, his soul got heavier. While they had been away, quite a few mysteries had been revealed. Hoaxes, publicity stunts, fraternity pranks, ice formations. Mulder thought about the years he had spent chasing after nothing, turning himself into a fool, dragging her along.

Had everything been nothing but a joke?

 _I want to believe._

The poster on the wall mocked him. Yes, Mulder had always been a believer, but right now he found it hard to believe that he hadn't wasted his whole damn life.

Just when he took another pencil, using it as a dart, his partner walked in.

"Mulder, what are you doing to _my_ poster?"

"Scully, since we've been away, much of the unexplained has been explained..."

Looking at her with his big puppy eyes, Mulder started to rant, and her gaze wandered from the tossed files to the stabbed poster. Clearly, he was going through a difficult time, but Scully found it hard not to smile because "middle-aged" Mulder with "fresh, if not wiser eyes" was way more entertaining than the TV program on your average Saturday night.

"I thought it'd be great going back to work, but is this really how I want to spend the rest of my days? Chasing after monsters?"

She almost felt pity for him. Almost.

"We've been given another case, Mulder. It has a monster in it."

X

"Welcome to Shawan, Oregon. 1.641 human inhabitants plus one monster. And a few thousand gnats," he stated dramatically, scratching another insect bite.

16 hours, a red-eye flight from DC to Portland and 70 miles in their rental car later, Mulder was still sullen, and not even the green, green woods of Oregon could placate him. His mood was slowly giving her a headache, and Scully wondered if he even noticed that they were almost back at the beginning.

23 years ago, she had followed him to Oregon for the first time, had yelled at him in the rain and the mud, had learned to trust him in a candle-lit motel room.

Her jackets had been bigger then, her face smooth and free of worry lines.

23 years ago, he had first earned her loyalty, then her friendship and her love. Right now, he was just a breath away from losing all of them for good. Scully sighed.

"Mulder, I can see that you're going through a questioning phase of some sort, but people have been killed here, and if we can help stop that and save some lives, I think that is an unquestionably worthwhile thing for us to do, regardless of whether the thing we find is animal or human or... otherwise."

Mulder had always admired her logic, her rational approach, and one in ten times he actually listened to her. Fortunately for both of them, today was one of these times. He swallowed, blinked, took a deep breath. Looked at the ancient trees.

"Okay, when you put it that way. But mark my words, Scully, when we catch whatever is doing these killings, it's only going to have two eyes.

They checked into a creepy little motel ("I wonder if we'll find a mummified body in the basement, Mulder."), met with local authorities, interviewed a witness and chased something around a truck stop. By the time they were ready to call it a night, both of them were pretty exhausted, and the prospect of going back to their motel seemed promising enough. At least it had showers and beds.

Tired as they were, Mulder and Scully lingered in the hallway, unwilling to say goodnight just yet.

"Another motel, Scully."

"Yeah... It's been a while, though."

"I wonder... how many places like this have we seen over the years?"

"Like _this_?" Scully wrinkled her nose and looked up at the mouflon head above her. The mouflon stared back with its glass eyes. "Not too many, fortunately."

Mulder leaned in, grinning sheepishly.

"You know, if you're scared, my door's always open for you."

"Dream on," she replied dryly.

"Just in case, I'm gonna wear my red Speedos, Scully."

It was a joke, wasn't it? A smile played around his lips, but fatigue had made them vulnerable, and in his eyes, she glimpsed a flicker of the old longing. Lowering her head, Scully took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment of what-if. Her voice was soft, then.

"Goodnight, Mulder."

He nodded wistfully.

"Goodnight."

Later, alone in her bed, under the scrutiny of dead birds, Scully wondered if he was really wearing the ridiculous red underwear, a silly Valentine's gift from many, many years ago. She remembered his Shaft impersonation, how much they had laughed sometimes... and missing Mulder surprised her with acute pain.

"Silly girl," she berated herself.

It was better like this, it was. Nonetheless, amidst the hurt, the sacrifices, the frustration, there had been fun, she had to admit. Attacking cockroaches, wannabe-vampires, tail-wagging babies – she had almost forgotten, how hilarious some cases had been. And, those memories were harder to revisit, she had almost forgotten how much fun you could have with Fox Mulder...

Nestling deep into the pillows, Scully finally succumbed to sleep, trying to ignore the fact that she was wearing one of his old shirts.

And night it was. Under the silent watch of the moon, the strangest things happened in Shawan, Oregon. Changes occurred, creatures appeared.

"Ah, monster! Help me, it's a monster!"

Mulder awoke with a start, blinking away the weirdest dream. At the other end of the outcry, he found the terrified hotel manager clutching his booze. Nothing, just an argument with another guest, he claimed. Ha, Mulder wasn't Special Agent for nothing, and pretty soon he discovered the trashed room and the secret hallway.

And, searching for a monster, he found something else entirely.

Scully. Dana.

For the first time in a long time, he saw her asleep again. Mulder only allowed himself a brief moment to study her sleeping form – after all, he had no right to see her like this, not anymore – but it was enough to open the floodgates, drowning him in memories of two decades. Scully asleep in the car, asleep on the plane, asleep in the hospital, asleep on the couch in his old apartment in Alexandria. Asleep in his bed, in his arms. Tenderness and longing hit him with unexpected force, and, swallowing hard, Mulder closed the eyes of the fox.

It was time to get some answers.

X

"It's a monster, Scully, plain and simple. And not just your everyday run-of-the-mill monster, but we're talking transformation here..."

Mulder was abuzz with enthusiasm, as he laid out his theory in front of her. Just a few minutes ago, he had woken her up by banging on her door, and the conversation had gone from "hello" to "monster" in the blink of an eye. Although, Scully mused, was it called "conversation" if only one part did the talking?

"To which I know you're going to say..."

Even though Mulder did a pretty good job presenting her usual arguments himself. A smile softened her face, as she enjoyed the show in front of her. He was so lively, so vibrant, and long-forgotten fragments came back in a rush.

 _Dear diary, today my heart leapt when Agent Scully suggested spontaneous combustion._

When had he said that to her? She couldn't remember anymore, but she did remember the shimmer in his eyes, his teasing grin. His theories had mostly been borderline crazy, but Mulder had been so full of energy, so hungry to investigate that following him had usually been easier than one might think.

"What if this creature that we've stumbled upon is here to create a whole new paradigm for our understanding of life itself?"

A shape shifting horned lizard slash human. Might this be the craziest thing he'd ever come up with? Immediately, her mind provided her with chupacabras, golems and moth men. On second thought, maybe the horned lizard didn't even make the top ten.

"To which I know you're going to say..."

What was she going to say anyways? He was so much like the young Mulder she had once known that part of her wanted to kiss the hell out of him. The other part wanted to knock sense into him. As ambiguous as those feelings were, the mix was quite familiar from the good old times. _Good_ old times? Had she finally lost her mind as well?

"I don't know what this thing is, Scully, and I don't know exactly how it came to be. All I'm saying is, it's a monster."

He finished his tirade, looking at her with expectant eyes. Scully nodded tenderly.

"Yeah, this is how I like my Mulder."

"So you're agreeing with me?"

"No! You're bat-crap crazy."

"But what about the facts?"

"What facts?"

He looked at her, stunned for a moment, before repeating his findings. She dismissed it with a shake of her head.

"I did retrieve some personal items from the room, that might help us to track him down."

Finally, she nodded. "Well, that sounds like a good investigative plan."

"The first thing we need to do, though... check out of this motel."

"Why? Because of the monster? You said it yourself, it's highly unlikely that Lizard Man will come back."

He shook his head.

"Let's put it that way, more than dead birds are watching here."

"A peeping Tom?"

Scully sighed. Of course, there had to be one. An establishment like this could not possibly be run by a sane person. She really didn't want to leave her warm bed, though. Scully wasn't 30 anymore, and she preferred her nights spent asleep.

"Don't you think he might have seen enough for one night?"

Mulder paused, thinking about red Speedos and his sleeping partner. His sleeping partner...

His gaze ran over her body, and for the first time since entering her room, he noticed her state of dressing. Or... undressing. Scully was wearing a men's shirt that was deeply familiar. It ended mid-thigh, allowing him to study her bare legs. They were still as toned as he remembered. Her toenails were painted in a girlish pink. That was new, and he filed the information away. The shirt, though...

"Scully, why are you wearing my shirt?"

He eyed her curiously, and Scully damned her fair skin as she felt heat rising in her cheeks. Busted. Why was she wearing his shirt anyways?

"I... Well... Your shirt?"

"You know what? Don't say anything. I... I kinda like that you have it."

His hand found her doorknob, and he turned around to leave.

"Sleep tight, Scully."

And he was gone again, giving her no chance to utter her own goodnight wishes. Scully slipped back under the covers.

For years and years, saying goodnight to him had been a constant at the end of each day. In the office, through the doors of adjoining motel rooms across the country, in the intimate privacy of their own bedroom. She had rarely said "goodnight" to anyone in the past five years, and lying in her motel bed in Shawan, Oregon, Scully asked herself if he had. It was strange how it wasn't strange, being close to Mulder again.

"Goodnight, Mulder," she whispered, but this time nobody was there to listen.

X

Morning came, and in the light of the new day, the events of the night seemed highly unlikely. It had only been the tip of the iceberg though, because with every stone turned over the whole story got more lunatic. The local psychiatrist was a nut job and the were-monster wasn't a man turning into a lizard, but a lizard turning into a man.

At the end of the day, the only normal element was the killer himself. A man. Just a man.

And the monster? A friendly insectivore who just wanted to sleep off the whole miserable human thing.

When the moon was rising again, everything was coming full circle where it had begun: in the age-old green of the woods. Understanding was sought and kindness was found between man and creature, as hazel eyes bore into crimson pupils.

"A monster," Mulder stated in awe, as he turned around in the whispering forest, walking back to his car. He could still feel the other one's hand in his, hard and scaly.

"A real monster."

As always, Scully hadn't been there to witness the transformation, but for once, it didn't bother him.

"I believed him. And as ridiculous and irrational as it'd been, I was right."

Spreading out his arms, Mulder tilted his head, looking into the starry sky above.

"Thank you," he yelled, addressing everyone and no one in particular.

Deep inside of him, a piece fell back into place, and for the first time in ages, Mulder felt complete somehow. If were-lizards could exist, everything was possible, wasn't it? Maybe his life hadn't been such a waste after all.

"The only way to be happy as a human is to spend all your time in the company of non-humans," Guy had said, and: "Life's hopeless. A few fleeting moments of happiness surrounded by crushing loss and grief."

Teetering on the brink of the other man's abyss, Mulder had realized a thing or two. Seeking the company of non-humans – that had been him. Crushing loss and grief – that had been him as well. There was only one thing that separated him from Guy's despair, one thing that had always stood between him and the abyss.

The most beautiful red-haired thing there was. But what was he going to do with that epiphany?

Strange things had happened in Oregon, but for once the stars were aligned properly: The right man had met the right monster. One had needed someone to believe him, the other one something to believe in. The universe had straightened everything out.

Almost... everything.

To be continued...


	4. Coming Home

4\. Coming Home

They went home again.

He went to the little house, she went to her apartment.

They went to Philadelphia for another case.

Then Margaret Scully went somewhere... somewhere they couldn't follow, a place where Dana herself had once been.

 _Back in the day, did we ever come across the ability to wish someone back to life?_

 _I invented it. When you were in the hospital like this._

Pain and sorrow blurred her vision, clouded her mind, but there was one constant grounding her: his touch. She could feel his warm hands through the silk of her blouse, could feel his breath over her damp cheek, his chin on her head. She could feel his arms holding her together when the world was falling apart.

In his eyes, she didn't find pity but empathy, and his compassion carried her through the darkest hours.

"I'm here," he had said, and he was there.

Was there for her.

Back then, he had saved her like this over and over again, just like she had saved him. They were Mulderandscully, and people used to say their names in one breath. It had been a while, though.

Scully realized that being hugged by Mulder, that putting her head on his shoulder was like riding a bike. You might not have done it in years, but after mere seconds, it's as familiar and easy as always.

After giving her mother's ashes to the wind and the water, he held her for a long time, held her close to his chest. His heart was thumping reassuringly, his hands kept caressing her back, his Mulder scent was covering her like a thick blanket. Neither of them did speak, somehow this moment was too intimate for words.

It was hard to say goodbye.

But goodbye they said.

X

They flew to Texas. Technically, she flew to Texas, and then he flew to Texas as well, but in the end they succeeded together. It made no sense, how they were able to solve this case, but who asks about sense when hundreds of lives are saved?

Well, maybe Einstein and Miller did.

The two of them were so much like younger versions of Mulder and Scully that it made the older agents smile. They could become a great team one day, but as for now, they were still fighting their differences too much instead of embracing them.

Been there, done that, disabused, Mulder thought.

He didn't understand either, how he had been able to communicate with Shiraz... all he knew is that it had worked somehow. Where had he been, why had his mind conjured the Lone Gunmen, how had his body been marked by a mere psychedelic experience?

It made no sense. But it had happened nonetheless.

Grabbing his phone, Mulder left the house, taking a seat on the porch. He had always loved the view from their doorstep. When they had first found that little house, she had joked that the fields surrounding it provided plenty of space for crop circles. In the end, it had been Scully who had loved the farmland even more. She used to run her few miles every morning on the field roads. How often had he seen her approaching – out of breath, rosy cheeks, windswept hair. Mulder recalled waiting for her with coffee, sitting where he was sitting now; he remembered the salty taste of her skin when he had kissed her hello.

He didn't know anymore if she had forgone running first or if he had simply stopped waiting for her.

Mulder sighed.

In the distance, something was moving, coming closer. Mulder blinked, focusing. A car. Scully's car. The smile started in his chest and migrated to his face. He waved. Already his heart felt lighter.

He hadn't realized how much he needed to talk to her. Apparently, the feeling was mutual.

She got out of her car, walking towards him with a smile of her own.

"Talk to me, Mulder."

Exhaling deeply, he wondered, "Oh, where to begin?"

They started tentative, their words, reaching out to each other.

 _Wonders never cease. Powerful things. Deep and unconditional love._

"Walk with me, Scully."

Mulder got up, outstretching his hand. Instantly, she was by his side, accepting the invitation. Shoulders bumped, fingers intertwined. Their steps were in sync as they were quietly walking and talking.

About God and love and hate. The Bible and the prophets and finding a common language.

"Maybe it's beyond words. Maybe we should do like the prophets and open our hearts and truly listen."

Squinting against the sun, Mulder took in the woman in front of him. He had seen her in happiness, despair and everything else in-between, had seen her in youth and growing out of it; but it had been a while since he had really truly _seen_ her.

Her hair was glowing in the afternoon light and so was her face. Around her eyes and mouth he noticed the first serious wrinkles. Her skin was still as pale as it had ever been, a complexion that blushes easily. Mulder knew a thousand different ways to make her blush, and fond and wicked memories appeared.

She was so beautiful to him.

Once upon a time, her beauty had been the first ray of light illuminating the darkened corners of his soul. Her kindness and her intellect had followed soon after, filling him with hope.

She had saved him a hundred times and more.

 _You've kept me honest, you_ _made me a whole person. I owe you everything, Scully..._

Scully had been his friend long before anything else. 23 years later she was still his friend... and everything else.

"Tell me again why you had to leave."

He knew why.

 _The_ _stranglehold_ _they_ _put_ _on_ _your_ _very_ _existence..._

The stranglehold he had put on her.

Sometimes, love is not enough. His crusade had come in between, had finally swallowed him until even she couldn't reach him anymore. Ever since she had walked out on him, Mulder had merely existed. Eat, breathe, sleep, watch TV, browse the Internet for the foul odor of conspiracy.

Was he still that man? Reopening the x-files had finally brought some answers. Not the answers he had been looking for, but answers about himself. Among kind-hearted monsters and monstrous men he had found some kind of solace. Mulder had spent the better part of his life chasing the evil with a butterfly net, but suddenly he wanted to stop the chase, wanted to resume living.

"Tell me again why I should stay."

Despite her 51 years, her grin was still girlish and as infectious as ever.

Leaning in, he brushed her hair with his cheek, and her intimately familiar Scully scent called out to him.

"There's red wine in the kitchen."

Tilting her head, she wrinkled her nose.

"Red wine? Do you think I'm that cheap, Mulder?"

"Not at all, Scully. I just happen to know that you like red wine."

Reaching out, he tucked a reddish strand of hair behind her ear and his hand lingered. Her face turned serious.

"You know why I left, don't you?"

He nodded sadly.

"Yeah, I know. Honestly, I can't even blame you, I was a piece of shit to live with. The question is, Scully, are your reasons still valid?"

And that was the one-million-dollar question, she mused. Scully knew that Mulder would always be Mulder. Spooky, passionate, caring Mulder. The man who wanted to believe. The man she had fallen in love with half a lifetime ago. In the past weeks, something had changed, though. The darkness that had clouded his mind for so long was gone. His eyes shone brightly, his face was free of pain.

Averting her gaze, she took a leap of faith.

"I feel close to you, Mulder. Maybe closer than ever. And... I miss you," she confessed.

His heart did a somersault and using his free hand, he lifted her chin, forcing her gently to meet his eyes.

"Scully... I've missed you every day. I miss laughing with you, sharing meals with you, going to bed with you. I even miss grocery shopping. Come home?"

"Home?" She tasted the word on her tongue.

"Yeah. Please... let me be your home again. We can redecorate the house or move someplace else entirely. I don't care where we live, as long as we're together."

He was looking at her so lovingly, so candidly that something inside of her flew wide open.

"Dagoo would love this place," she finally said, and he laughed out in relief, pulling her closer, taking her into his arms just because he wanted to.

"I love you, I love you," he murmured right before his mouth found hers, finally again. Stealing her breath, her response, her doubts.

The kiss lingered, taking its sweet time to unfold. Lips greeted each other like long-lost friends, whispering, caressing. Then tongues joined in, and Scully wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as tight as possible. The sensation was so well-known and brand-new at the same time that she wanted to weep.

"Mulder," she finally sighed into his mouth, "my Mulder."

Breaking the kiss, she stepped back in the circle of his embrace, studying his dear face with shimmering eyes.

"I love you, Dana," he finally repeated. "You're still my one in, well, seven billion."

 _Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant._ _My touchstone..._

"Love has never been our problem, has it?"

He shrugged, "Let's make it work, then. After everything we've been through, let's finally change the outcome."

"I love you, too, Mulder. I never stopped."

She leaned in for another kiss, feeling lightheaded and drunk somehow. Coming home, oh yes, she was coming home. He was her home, the only place she ever wanted to live.

"I never signed those divorce papers," she finally said.

"I know. And neither did I."

"For better or for worse?"

"For better, Scully, for better."

Their fingers linked again, as he guided her back to the little house.

After all, there was red wine in the kitchen.

They would talk. Dawn would break. They'd kiss again. Maybe there'd be tears, but there'd be joy as well. Eventually, he would take her to bed. Make love to her and with her.

And it would be great, would be everything.

For she was his home as well.

Has been for 23 years.

 _Time passes in moments, moments which, rushing past, define the path of a life just as surely as they lead towards its end. How rarely do we stop to examine that path, to see the reasons why all things happen; to consider whether the path we take in life is our own making or simply one into which we drift with eyes closed._

 _But what if we could stop, pause to take stock of each precious moment before it passes? Might we then see the endless forks in the road that have shaped a life? And, seeing those choices, choose another path?_

The end.


End file.
